


So Annie Are You Okay?

by Moira_Darling



Series: Criminal Minds AU [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Profiling, Serial Killers, Torture, criminal minds pairing OR human!au of supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28904859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moira_Darling/pseuds/Moira_Darling
Summary: So he ran into the bedroom, he was struck down - it was his doom.Clyde Easter's husband comes home to an empty house.Mark Crowley has to rebuild his life after losing his husband.
Relationships: Balthazar & Crowley (Supernatural), Balthazar/Crowley (Supernatural), clyde easter & original character, clyde easter/original character
Series: Criminal Minds AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119839





	So Annie Are You Okay?

**Author's Note:**

> this is a complete oneshot, but this is also a placeholder for the actual fic. i have a few other oneshots that i will be posting for this fic too.
> 
> This story will be told from Crowley's perspective. So I will be posting oneshots from Clyde's POV.
> 
> This is also technically a human!AU Crowley/Balthazar story, just set in the Criminal Minds universe.

Crowley shifted his coat to the arm that held his briefcase, and reached into his pocket for the key to the dark house.

He frowned when he slid the key into the lock and found the door was already unlocked, and then he shrugged and made his way into the house. He set his briefcase down by the umbrella stand and hung up his coat.

“Honey, I’m home.” He sing-songed. He listened, and then looked around the dark house. He flipped a light switch and sighed in relief when the lights in the hallway turned on. “Glad we aren’t having issues again…” he muttered, moving to the kitchen and turning on the lights as he went. He hummed a jazz song. He crossed to the kitchen to the sink, frowning a the dirty dishes still in the sink and reached into the cupboard for a clean glass. “Honey, you okay?” he called, filling his glass with water.

He took a sip of it, walking into the dining room and frowning at the unfinished dinner laid out. “couldn’t put it away?” he sighed, picking up the half empty wine glass and finishing it.

He set his glass of water down on the table and shucked off his suit coat and draped over the back of a chair. He rolled up his sleeves and started gathering up the dishes of food and carrying them back to the kitchen.

Returning out of the kitchen, he walked to the living room and flipped through his records. He pulled one out and smiled, slowly crossing the room to the record playing and sound system his husband had set up for him. He gently set the record onto the player and set the needle in the groove. He smiled and closed his eyes, turning the volume up.

He leaned against the wall for a moment and then straightened with a sigh and returned to the kitchen.

He ran a sink full of water and added soap and the dishes.

“I hope you know I love you, dear,” he muttered. “I have had a long day, and I would like to be in bed. With you, preferably!” he shouted at the ceiling with a grin.

Then he buckled down with a sigh and went to work scrubbing the dishes.

Crowley dried the last of the dishes and put them away. He yawned, stretching as he made his way back to the dining room. He hesitated in the doorway, considering just leaving his jacket and letting the record run out. Then he mustered his flagging energy and gathered up his jacket and went into the living room to turn off the music.

He shut off the lights as he climbed the stairs to the bedroom.

He yawned again, opening the door and looking into the dark room. He leaned against the doorframe, expecting to see his husband in the bed.

He straightened, frowning and reaching into the room to switch on the light.

He looked at the empty bed and then looked to the bathroom. “…Honey?”

He snagged the hanger from the hook beside the dresser and hung up his suit coat slowly. He stepped into the room. “clyde?”

He slowly stepped into the room and crossed to the shut bathroom door. “…this isn’t funny. Are you okay?”

There wasn’t any sound, and he looked around the empty bedroom.

There was no moon in the sky outside, and Crowley looked back at the shut bathroom door. There was a pit growing in his stomach and he could feel something was wrong. He relied on his gut during negotiations. To know when to push and when to let a matter rest. To know which witnesses could be trusted, and when people were to be ignored.

And right now, that instinct was saying to stop. That he didn’t want to know. That that door was shut for a reason.

He pushed forward anyway. He kept walking. He put one foot in front of the other. He kept walking.

His hand was on the door handle.

He could stop. He could go to bed. He could ignore this.

He turned the knob, pushing the door open.

Metal. Only metal. So thick he could almost taste it.

He hesitated, and then slowly reached to turn on the light.

He gasped.

Red. Red everywhere. There was blood all over the bathtub, dripping over the floor and covering the walls.

There was so much blood. So very much blood. All he could taste was copper, _smell_ was copper.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t swallow. His throat was swollen and his hands were shaking.

This was too much blood. They couldn’t…

No one could survive this.


End file.
